I fell in love with the game of softball later than most girls. I didn’t start playing until I was 7 years old, and my story behind it isn’t the typical story. I wasn’t forced into playing, I didn’t have older siblings who played, and though my parents had both played baseball and softball, I didn’t care to follow in their footsteps. Instead, I had a younger brother who played baseball. My dad coached his team, so we were always at the park watching my brother play, waiting while my dad attended coaches meetings, or participating in some kind of park event. After about two seasons, I got tired of waking my little butt up early every Saturday morning to go sit outside in the hot sun for hours just to watch my brother. So I told my mom I wasn’t waking up for my brothers games anymore, and instead I was going to start playing softball and waking up for my own games. My first season wasn’t taken very seriously. I was more focused on having fun in the dugout than actually playing softball. But somehow, it grew on me enough to want to come back and play the next season.
Fast-forward 11 years and I was sitting in the dugout watching the final out of my career being made. I will never forget the heartbreak I experienced watching the entire play in slow motion. With the call of “Ballgame!” I felt a wave of pain go through my heart. My team lined up to shake hands, and all turned to look at me as I sat on the bench with tears pouring down my face, waiting for me to take my place at the front of the line. There were no words to make that pain go away. I had spent 11 years of my life playing softball, and it had all come to a crashing halt in a matter of seconds.
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In my 11 years I had been through 21 seasons, 12 different teams, 23 coaches, and countless teammates. I have a box of trophies sitting in my garage at home that haven’t been picked up since the day I received them. I have pictures that pop up daily on my Timehop of the adventures my teammates and I made. I have memories all over the majority of the southern states that wouldn’t exist without softball. I didn’t realize just how much of my life revolved around this wonderful sport until I woke up on May 11, 2016. That morning was the first time I had woken up in 11 years that I didn’t pack my uniform, practice, or workout clothes. It was the first day I came home before the sun went down. It was the first day I breathed.
Since that day, almost 7 months have passed. Softball still continues to be a huge part of my life. Many of my former teammates have signed to play in college, and I keep up with them often and love hearing about their games and teammates. I’m still learning to find the happy balance between school, softball, and breathing that I never had before. I may be learning, but I am happy.
